


Fear is a Hobby

by SSWolfe



Category: IT (2017), IT (2017) RPF
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/M, Implied Relationships, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Rape, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Side-plot, The Losers Club, Unsafe Sex, Weird Plot Shit, idfk this shit is probably gonna get fucked up, mentions of abuse, psychotic tendencies (IT)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSWolfe/pseuds/SSWolfe
Summary: Isabelle has lived in the town of Derry for all of her seventeen years, and now children she had known of and even one she knew had begun disappearing without any trace. But, for the things that had happened otherwise within the town, it was nothing she wasn't already accustomed to. People were sick by nature... right?Upon meeting the infamous Pennywise, questions began to fly through her mind without answers and it was frustrating. Who was he? What the hell did he want with her? And why did he know her late mother?





	Fear is a Hobby

Missing signs hung about the town like wallpaper, an outcry that nobody would ever be able to answer. Children played and rode their shitty-ass bicycles all throughout the alleyways and dirty streets. I could smell the pungent scent of filth, old ashes and copper. It was sickening.

 

I hated this town. Derry was a hole of shit, located in a part of Maine that nobody cared about, including most of its inhabitants.

 

I was seventeen, bordering legality in just half a month. Too much bad happened here. Rapists, child molesters, kidnappers that attended church and school functions like normal people wearing benevolent masks walked the streets. Just last week, a man had been convicted of raping a twelve-year-old in the neighboring town. He had lived two houses away from me most of my life, and had been on the city council board for half a decade. He had two young daughters.

 

That was an eye-opener. And now, Patrick Hocksetter had gone missing. He was only fifteen. A delinquent in his ways, and a lackey in his notorious clique run by Henry Bowers, the freak. The papers were filled with the mournful pleas of his mother begging for any scrap of him to show up.  She claimed that he was a good child who was just acting out because of his age and hormones. Quite frankly, I was okay with the world being short another douchebag. But the other, innocent children that went missing? That was disturbing. My younger brother had a classmate who's kid brother went missing. Apparently, the poor kid was still convinced that the little boy was still alive.

 

I knew better, despite it breaking my heart at the time. I had even prayed for the kid, and the other two, and even Patrick. I was by no means religious, and never had been, but for the lives of a few, I could be for a day.

 

I was known as a heartless human being throughout my school, or at least to most. I chose to dress almost exclusively in black and grey, avoiding the usual bright dresses and etcetera that most of the girl donned. I avoided most social interaction if possible, finding nothing worth socializing with in this dangerous cesspool. But the thing is, I wasn't heartless at all. I loved many things, just not people. I had been bullied for a few years after my mother's passing, up until someone made the mistake of touching me. I had been nearly expelled after punching him so hard his nose moved back inside of his skull, narrowly away from his brain. I'd been left alone after that.

 

I walked slowly by the train track in the outskirts of Derry, my hands kept warm in my black leather jacket. The wind blew my hair into my face and I sputtered to a stop, trying to remove the brunette locks from my mouth.

 

"Son of a bi- eche!" I choked as it went down my throat, coughing. "Fucking hell!" I completely stopped, pulling my jacket sleeves back and spitting it out. "Fucking hair!"  I finally got it out, the aftertaste of my conditioner lingering on the back of my tongue. With a glare, I looked up.

 

And when I looked up, I saw it. Leaning against a tree, arms crossed and a thick-matte lipsticked smile plastered across its face. A fucking clown?

 

"Oh, Jesus Christ, of course the circus is here," I ground out. He was creepy as all hell, too. Definitely not something I would want at a child's birthday party. Well, that _would_ be hilarious. But why was he standing there all alone, in a filthy outfit? Had he ever heard of a laundry mat?

 

So, I waved at him with the fakest smile and continued on my way, only a bit concerned. I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and headed toward the train station, lighting it and taking a deep drag. I exhaled, watching the smoke swirl upward and away from me. Ah, how I loved a cigarette after a long day of school.

 

_Smoking is bad for you…_

 

I stopped dead in my tracks. Where the hell had that come from? I popped my knuckles, the cigarette hanging from my lips in defiance to whatever the fuck had made me think that. I glanced around, noting that turning around would probably have been a bad idea. I could smell something… something musky, yet sweet. It invaded my senses, wrapping around me as the cigarette smoke had.

 

"… very bad for you, girl." The voice was behind me. My instincts had been correct. A shiver ran up my spine. Something reached into my peripheral vision, and somehow I stood stock still. A white-gloved hand gripped the butt of my cigarette, and I bit down on the filter as he tried to pull it away. "… very bad girl."

 

"That's my cigarette," I replied around it. His voice was strange, and quite deep. Almost hellish…

 

"Why poison such delicate flesh?" I bit down harder, surprised that it hadn't bent up or down yet. Oh, right. The glove. A shadow loomed over from behind me. This man, whoever or whatever it was, towered over me by at least a foot. He was directly behind me now. I could feel his breath in my hair. I heard him inhale deeply. Was he smelling me?

 

"This _flesh_ is calloused and tainted beyond recognition, so it's nothing you want," I ground out. He pulled a little harder on the cigarette, but I held my own. I didn't know who I was dealing with, and the thought crossed my mind that I should let him take it. But! I was one who enjoyed having the upper hand, even if this… thing could probably murder me with no conscience.

 

"I wouldn't be too sure," he growled. I stiffened and inhaled a little smoke between my teeth. It left a nasty, wet tobacco taste on my tongue and I nearly gave up the fight. But I was a defiant little shit until the end of my days, however soon they may end. But he stayed quiet and moved closer. I felt his frame pressing against my back lightly now, and I gauged correctly. He was quite tall. Something brushed against my upper thighs as the wind rustled, and that's when it dawned on me. The fucking clown.

 

"You're the clown, aren't you." It wasn’t a question. A maniacal laughter made me flinch away, but it was short-lived.

 

"The naughty girl is smart."

 

"The scary clown is kinky."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

I let go of the cigarette in shock. How could this thing _not_ be a kink of some kind? But that didn't last long either. He threw the cigarette onto the tracks before I felt the shift. His body moved closer, and the musky-sweet scent grew stronger. His breath coiled around my ear.

 

"Good girl…" A felt something sharp cut the shell of my ear and I flinched back into his body away from the feeling. A hand snaked around my waist, and as I went to reach for it, the other hand gripped mine and extended it outward and up.

 

"What do you- ah!" I gasped as something wet slithered across my neck gently. A strange heat pooled between my legs, and I wanted to run away and never look back, but my feet felt rooted in place. "… fuck…" It came out breathy.

 

"Easy there," he whispered into my ear, his tongue flicking out to savor what I assume was the blood trickling into my ear. He moaned softly, and gulped loud enough for me to hear every bit of it. "Your fear smells almost as delectable as you taste."

 

"You are one twisted fucking clown, you kno- ah, fuck!" His fingers dug into my hipline, and my ass shot backward into him. His psychotic laughter howled viciously beside me, loud and unforgiving.

 

"If you didn't _enjoy_ any of this, dear girl, you wouldn't be so frustrated." He let out a squeak and I flinched. A tear rolled down my cheek.

 

"If you're going to, _mmn_ , fucking rape me, just get it over with!" I cried out, fighting myself on how to feel. I was terrified for my life at this point, and for my psyche. To get turned on by a psychotic, dirty clown meant I was way more fucked up than I thought. Was I that desperate for the attention?

 

"Rape?" he whispered in my ear, sounding almost offended. "How low you think of those around you. Granted… I _have_ killed people before. Many of them… and the most terrified ones taste so delicious. But you… are defiant. Bold, and maybe even stupid, but you're different. And… older, yet you can still see me with clarity. You're damaged. And intelligent… it's forcing me to use an actual vocabulary."

 

"You… you're the reason for the disappearings around here. You're the psycho!"

 

"Fear seasons meat beautifully, but I assure you that it is merely a hobby to scare… with an incentive. I can make myself appear however I want. I could take on any form you imagine, be it beautiful or absolutely heart-attack educing. I could devour you whole now. But I am not hungry right now, even though you smell like a… buffet, I think, is what it's called."

 

"Stop rambling and fucking say what you mean, you sadistic bastard…" I growled through a whine. His finger massaged the sensitive spot again and I cried out.

 

"I eat solely when I am hungry. And I am not hungry. Is that real enough for you, girl?"

 

"Then what's-"

 

"The purpose? Even an entertainer needs entertainment." The words were said in a breathy whisper, followed by that blood-chilling, boisterous laughter. And then, every feeling of his imposing frame disappeared like a blink, leaving only the echo of his laugh.


End file.
